


Chop, Chop

by inralphlauren



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M, RIP 2jae i had hope for this comeback i really did but, RIP my love for JB, markjae rise, this was supposed to be 2jae but markjae is part of my soul at this point
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:54:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6560053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inralphlauren/pseuds/inralphlauren
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are only three things that strike terror within Mark: </p>
<p>Chicago Bulls losing by 2 points with 15 seconds left on the clock, Jackson shoving his stinky, socked feet in his face, and the prospect of Youngjae crying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chop, Chop

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://otpprompts.tumblr.com/post/142115973888/imagine-person-a-of-your-otp-walking-into-the) prompt.
> 
> The universe took no pity on me when Mark announced the other day he and Youngjae were roommates.

When Mark wakes up, cheek reddened and full of sleep wrinkles, it takes him a couple of seconds to blink away the daze. Below him, a puddle of his drool has etched away the print of the word _neoliberalism_ in his textbook’s chapter on Chinese consumerism. Mark continues to stare at the same spot until the dizziness goes away, his fingers reaching for the iPhone a few inches away from him.

**_ 10:09PM _ **

His muscles protest as he manages to stagger out of his room, the soft static from the apartment’s living room television reaching his ears. The lights are off there, _House of Cards_ emitting the only light source—a soft light at that, but the ones from the kitchen shine brightly. It must be Youngjae coming back from music lab, he’s usually back by 9, 9:30 if he takes his sweet time catching the bus.

Mark’s thoughts are suddenly interrupted when he hears soft sniffling coming from the kitchen. As Mark gets closer, the sniffling gets louder and his brain begins to panic.

There are only three things that strike terror within Mark: Chicago Bulls losing by 2 points with 15 seconds left on the clock, Jackson shoving his stinky, socked feet in his face, and the prospect of Youngjae crying.

And by the sound of it, Youngjae is, in fact, crying.

It’s an impulse really, but Mark doesn’t even register how he’s crossing the small kitchen in two strides and wrapping his arms in a comforting manner around the younger male's waist.

“Youngjae?” he breathes softly into the nape of the other’s neck. From this distance, he can smell the cherry blossom fragrance from Youngjae’s shampoo. Recently, he had ditched his strawberry vanilla for a “more flowerly” aroma. Mark hadn’t complained, he’d like anything Youngjae used if he were being completely honest.

Youngjae tenses for a few seconds before relaxing into Mark’s chest, seeming to realize it’s just Mark and not some burglar of the night. His sniffling ceases slightly before returning full force. “Are you okay?” he asks one more time, trying his best not to press.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” is Youngjae’s deadpan response, albeit a bit hoarse. Mark steps back, giving Youngjae space to turn around and face him and the younger male is mid-turn when he sees them and— _oh_.

_ Onions. _

Being chopped.

Onions _being_ chopped and the _atrocious_ smell—

“Mark hyung, did you think I was crying?” Youngjae says, but it comes out as more of a choked sob. He looks terrible. His eyes are irritated and that snot Mark had heard earlier is now visible— _disgusting_. Youngjae’s always been an ugly crier. 

Mark ducks his head, embarrassed and blaming his disorientation. “Shut up. I was worried, it’s not funny.”

Youngjae lets him know that it truly is funny over dinner, three episodes of _House of Cards_ , and chaste kisses all over his face in bed before falling asleep at 2AM.


End file.
